Page 102 of Joker

That’s the question. The one I should probably dodge. The one I don’t.

“You,” I say.

The word hangs there between us.

Heavy. Unavoidable.

Her breath catches.

Mine doesn’t. Because I already know where I stand.

The problem is whether she does.

I take another step closer. Close enough now that if she leans in even a fraction, there won’t be any space left between us.

“This doesn’t happen halfway,” I tell her. “Not with me.”

Her pulse jumps at her throat. I can see it.

“If you walk away right now,” I continue, “we go back to how it was. I keep my hands to myself. I don’t cross that line. I don’t make this harder for you than it already is.”

Her lips part. She doesn’t speak.

I don’t let her. “But if you step into this,” I say, voice low and steady, “you do it knowing exactly what you’re stepping into.”

Her gaze locks on mine. Unblinking now.

Caught.

“You choose me,” I finish, “I’m not letting you go.”

The words settle into the space between us like something final.

Real.

Her breathing is uneven again, but not from panic this time. From something else. Something I recognize.

“I’m not gentle,” I say.

She swallows

“Not even a little.”

That should scare her. It doesn’t. Or if it does, it’s not enough.

She takes one small step forward. That’s all it takes.

The last inch disappears.

Her hand finds the front of my cut, fingers curling into the leather like she needs something solid to anchor to.

“I don’t want gentle,” she says.

That’s it. That’s the moment. The choice.

And she makes it. She closes the distance.

The kiss hits like a collision.